I see you again, then you're Gone
by CainaStarsong
Summary: Mello goes to a bar to relax, but instead he finds a huge problem: Matty. Mello still loves Matt and he's not sure the Matt should be involved with the Mafia as well. But does he have a choice? Matt may be his only hope. MxM. Oh, yeah. I own nothing.


Mello moved slowly through the sea of dancers, smokers, and anything else of the category at the club. He needed a break. A break from the Mafia, from Near, and from Kira. Tonight he was not Mello, scary Mafia boss; he was Mello, single and god damn hot.

He took a seat at the bar, which wasn't too full. To the right, two girls sat ogling at his leather clad body, and to his left, a redhead in a striped shirt and….oh, shit. Goggles.

Matt.

Mello sucked in a breath, completely light-headed. No, that _couldn't_ be Matt. Mello had promised himself the night he left that Matt would never have to see him again. Mello couldn't see him. He would break into a million, tiny pieces, and this time, no one had enough superglue to put him back together. Mello had nearly died when he'd left Wammy's House, with only the fact that Matt might be safe keeping him going.

To hell with it.

Mello would just…get his number, that's all. In case he needed someone that wasn't mafia. Yeah.

No. That would be bad. What if Matt got hurt?

But Matty looked so sad. The crimson hair was flat, and dull, and his goggles were up, a sure sign that something was wrong. Matt _never_ took his goggles off. Mello had seen him go to sleep wearing those….He probably even showered in them. Wow, that was a thought… His striped shirt was loose, much too loose. He didn't have a videogame, a DS, a PSP, or anything of the sort, signifying that he was thinking deeply. He had music blaring through his iPod earbuds, but soft enough for Mello not to hear. His back was hunched, and as Mello watched, Matt downed a beer, and then slammed it down on the counter.

A pretty girl in a mini skirt slid onto the stool next to him, shaking her dyed purple hair. She ordered some beer, and turned and smiled at Matt. At _Matt_. Mello's Matt!

Mello started to get up, but forced himself down. Matt didn't need Mello. Mello had left. Mello should not interfere. Matt knew how to deal with girls; he held the record for most girls turned down at Wammy's.

But it was hard to watch. Matt said something, the girl laughed. Then Matt laughed quietly.

The girl behind the counter walked up to Mello. "What can I get'cha?"

"That redhead's number." Mello said automatically. "Uh. See that redhead? If you can get his number for me, and don't tell him who needs it, I'll give you 20 bucks."

The girl looked at him strangely, shattering his hopes that she had thought he was a desperate girl, his first and last time. (Mello did not want to be though of as _gay_.)

The waitress obliged. She got Matt a beer, and slipped into the seat. She said something, Matt answered, she leaned up to laugh, and he leaned down and smiled. She asked him something, and he answered by tearing off a little bit of his bill, and writing on it.

A few minutes more, the girl walked over and gave the slip to Mello, who nodded his thanks and handed over the money. He wrote the number on his arm, and memorized the number. Just in case his arm got blown off in the near future, which could very likely happen.

He stood and left.

In the parking lot across the street, Mello stared at the red Camero next to his black motorbike. It _had_ to be Matt's. Yes, that was Matt's strange parka-vest thing, the jacket Mello never had a word for, and 3 videogame boxes, one for _The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess_, one for _Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time_, and _Super Paper Mario_. And there was a black DS sporting the name Matt in silver sharpie. God, it _was_ Matt.

Mello straddled his bike, and revved the engine, pulling on his helmet. Helmets weren't usually his style, but with Kira around, it was best to keep his face hidden. And just in time.

The moment his thick golden hair was covered, Matt appeared. He was whistling a tune Mello recognized as Foreverandever etc, but just barely, because Matt had slowed it down to something melancholy, depressed, and sad.

Matt, despite his depressed face, was so fucking hot in his skinny jeans, combat boots, and that stripy shirt. He was taller, absolutely, and his hair fell in a new way over his goggled eyes that made him appear just the right age. He was kinda skinny though, Mello noticed, he obviously wasn't getting enough to eat, or sleep, because there were bags under his eyes.

He stopped in front of Mello, and opened the car door. He looked at Mello, lighting a cigarette with a black lighter. "Nice bike." He noted, closing the lighter with a black gloved hand.

Mello realized that Matt's voice had changed. It was a little raspy now, probably from the cigerettes.

"Uh. Thanks." Mello's voice cracked, and he revved his engine once more, speeding off into the night.

He couldn't believe tonight. He had simply wanted a break, and here was an even bigger problem. Mello had though Matt would be safe at Wammy's and here he was. Like a bad penny, except Matt was worth so much more than a penny, and he was much better than bad.

Mello hadn't though about Matt for a while now. Well, no, he had tried not to think about Matt, but he had anyway. Guilt stung his heart. How could he forget about Matt? What if Matt was suffering? What if it was his fault? Oh, hell.

DXXXXD

Mello went back the next night.

Matt was sitting at the bar, drinking again. So Mello went around listening to gossip and asking questions.

He learned that Matt was there nearly every night. He smoked. He really loved his red car. He always had a chain on his jeans, but it wasn't attached to his wallet.

_How do people know these things?_ Wondered Mello privately, tapping a girl with dyed hair on the shoulder.

"What can you tell me about that man at the bar?"

"Why do you need to know?" She turned, glaring at him.

Mello stiffened. The girl from last night. "He's an old friend of mine."

"Matt doesn't have friends."

"Yeah, he does. Me."

"No, he hates friends. Something to do with a friend who left him and…? I never got the rest."

Mello stared at her. "Oh, shit." He sank onto a seat, and covered his hands with his face. "Oh, shit, fuck, and hell."

"It was you, wasn't it." The girl stated, rolling her eyes. "You know you pretty much killed him. It took forever to get him to talk, and I live across the hallway from him."

Mello whimpered. "I was trying to _save_ him. To _protect_ him."

"Didn't work." The girl said, shooting barbs into Mello's heart.

Mello stared as she walked away, and then slowly got on his bike outside, riding to his small apartment. He collapsed on the bed. He was the one who had killed Matt. Him. And when he needed Matt, Matt, _Matt_, Matt would not be there.

He got up, splashed water on his face, and went to work, hoping he could blow himself up that day, hoping that the fake L would send in men to kill him, and that he might be killed.

What luck.

Good news: He got to blow himself up. Bad news: He didn't die.

DXXXD

Matt scooted back so that he could lean against the wall. The controller cord just barely spanned the distance between the console and his hands, and he settled cross-legged, cigarette smoke twirling artistically into his eyes.

The girl Mello had disliked, Jessica, opened the door, knowing that he never kept it locked. Why bother? He didn't have anything of much value. A few videogames, Harry Potter, some cigarettes. Hey."

He eyed her askance, hitting buttons with the half-attentive skill one could get with the kind of practice that he had.

"Matt. About Mello…"

Matt jumped up. Mello. The one who had ruined his life. He didn't want to speak about Mello. Mello had killed him. Matt had died. Plus the phone was ringing.

He snatched the receiver from the cradle. "Yello?" he permitted.

"…Matt."

Matt's blood went cold. He didn't even know that could really happen, he thought it was an expression, but it happened to him. Mello. It couldn't be anyone else. "Mello?" he asked, scared.

"I messed up, Matt. Please…..help. Ally…near 23…….and 24." The phone clicked. Dead. Matt stared at the old phone for a few second, before hurling it at the wall so hard a crack appeared in the plaster. Jessica looked at him.

"I'm leaving." She smiled sadly, "Bye Matt. See you at the club."

Matt raced down the stars-the elevator was too slow-and into his car. Right near the ally, he saw a phone both with a bloody handprint. Like someone had been leaning on the wall as he called. Oh, shit.

He stopped the car and raced down the ally, towards Mello. Towards the slim shape leaning on a dumpster. Matt stopped. This couldn't be Mello.

Mello had been a fourteen year old boy with loose black clothes, a halo of gold hair, and icy blue eyes.

This was a young devil, in leather and more leather, with a strip of pale stomach showing, and golden hair, not a bob really, more of a tangled mess. This left nothing, yet everything to imagination. The face that made Matt _want_ Mello so _bad_, so _much_. The rosary was still there. Oh, God. He was so damn _tempting_.

It wasn't _fair_.

Matt went to touch Mellos shoulder, and recoiled as he saw the burned flesh.

"That bad?" coughed Mello, barely audible, "It's numb to me." Matt scooped him up like he would a princess, and Mello curled against him, face to Matt's shirt. Matt ran to his car, panicking. It was the silence that scared him. Anytime Mello complained loudly, he was going to be fine. But the silence Mello kept now? It was nerve-wracking.

He pulled Mello in carefully, and slid in himself, Mellos' head resting on his leg. He fumbled with the keys, but finally the engine roared. Matt drove back to his apartment, surpassing the speed limits, not caring.

A million thoughts went through Matt's head, and he grabbed for a cigarette. He lit the end, and as nicotine rolled over his tongue, he knew it defiantly wouldn't calm him. He blew smoke rings at the window. This was his past to haunt him. Matt was dead, and in Hell. And Mello was here to torture him.

Mello had left Matt when Matt was fourteen. He had left during the night, and God, Matt wished he had followed. Mello hadn't said good-bye. That had hurt most.

And here he was, needing Matt's help. Mello always need Matt's help. Whether it was hacking, sneaking, or what-ever, Mello needed him, and never said thank you for it either. No matter how many times Matt got busted, Matt never stopped helping, and Mello never said sorry. You'd think he would learn to charge, but, no. Matt got busted for free.

Matt carried Mello into the elevator, and breathed deeply. The doors slid open slowly. He rushed out, and scrabbled with the keys. The door clicked open. Matt put Mello on the bed, noticing absently the plaster was chipping off the wall from the phone. He grabbed a medical kit, and wrapped Mello up best he could.

A doctor would have been better, but if Mello had called Matt, a doctor was not an option.

3 days.

Matt sat by Mello for 3 days. He got up for almost nothing, unless it was for Mello. He dropped water into Mello's mouth. He changed the bandages. He even did the sheets. He got up only for water, food, and the restroom. No cigarettes. No games either, and, Jesus, that was really hard.

3 days.

Then Mello groaned. Matt was near him instantly, finding the bed in the darkness of the apartment. "Mello?" he whispered, worried.

"……….Matty." the voice was horse, "Matty. I needed you."

"Yeah, and I'm not sure why." Matt snapped. "You didn't need me before. You just left."

Mellos eyes were slits. "……I did need you. I needed you to be safe."

"Mello, you asshole!" Matt said, choking. "How could you just leave? No note, no calls, no _good-bye_?" That had hurt most, he thought, no good-bye.

Mello trailed a cold hand over Matt's face. "I got involved with the mafia-"

"And? I don't want excuses, Mello. If I wasn't important enough to help when you were with the mafia, why am I important enough now? Couldn't get a mafia buddy to save you?" He said, tears pouring down his cheeks.

"Matty……." Mello whispered, icy blue eyes wide and horrified. "Matt, that's not true. You're important."

Matt lit a cigarette, smoke twirling into his eyes. "I want the truth, Mello. No excuses."

"When did you start smoking?" coughed Mello, waving the smoke from his nose.

"Since you left." Matt was rubbing it in, and if felt pretty damn good. "Truth. No excuses."

"Fine! You want the truth? That night, Near and I were called in. L died! Near was leaving right away to solve the Kira case! I had to leave too! That place was horrible! I couldn't take it! I broke."

"And left me to pick up the pieces," concluded Matt bitterly.

"Did you think there was even one day that passed when I didn't think of you, and wish I had dragged you with me?" Mello demanded, angry that Matt didn't understand.

"I would have died for you, and you know it." Matt snapped resentfully.

Mello was silent for a moment, and Matt just sat, listening to his slightly uneven breathing. "…..that was exactly why I couldn't give you a chance." Mello said. "You can't die, Matt. I need you, even if you were just a memory."

"You were my oxygen. Without you I couldn't breathe," whispered Matt.

"You think that's bad? You can hold your breath for a while, but you-you were the sun and I pretty much fell of a cliff during that darkness."

Matt choked a laugh back. That dramatic Mello.

"I'm sorry, Matty."

"Did you say sorry?" demanded Matt.

Mello answered crossly. "Don't make me repeat myself."

Matt smiled. "Fine. What did you do to get yourself like that?"

"Blown up. This old guy comes in when I'm trying to kill Kira, and starts to write my name in the notebook, cause he has the eyes. So I threatened him, I wasn't really gonna kill him, but Jose was on the ground, and shot him cause I said I was gonna blow the place-"

"You deliberately blew yourself up?" Matt cut in, looking at him disbelievingly.

Mello scowled. "No, I blew the _building_ up. I just happened to be in it at the time."

Matt blinked behind his goggles. Mello grimaced.

DXXXD

"So, what's our plan?" asked Matt, lighting a cigarette.

"Matt, put that out." Mello ordered, taking it from his mouth, and throwing it in the sink, "Here's the plan. You drive up in your car, and shoot a smoke bomb at Takada, as she's getting out of the car or something. Then you zoom away. I get her on the bike, and zoom away too."

"That's sounds more dangerous than usual." Matt observed, turning on a DS game.

"It'll be fine." Mello said, "No ones gonna get hurt. They'll take you to jail, Roger will call, and you're home free. And I'll have beaten Near!"

"Ok." Matt shrugged, absently sticking the DS stylus in his mouth like a cigarette.

DXXXXXXXXD

Mello had thought when someone close to you died; you would be able to feel it. But when Matt died, he hadn't known. He had to find out from a freaking _news channel_.

He managed only barely not to cry. And that was because Mello _never_ cried in front anyone but Matt. Who was dead. And that Takada chick was sniveling in the back. Damn idiot, didn't she know that Mello had problems too? Mello had killed his friend, and he wasn't going to hurt this girl.

It was hard not to cry.

To think that Matt wasn't going to be sitting on the comfy couch playing some blipping game was hard.

And that fact he wasn't going to be smoking in the small apartment anymore.

He wasn't sleeping next to Mello anymore, curling in when the heater wasn't working.

Mello choked down a sob. He's not going to be _breathing_ anymore. Mello could remember him, slouching in his seat with his feet on the dashboard, cigarette in mouth, goggles on, and playing some game, not worried about anything, confident Mello had it all taken care off.

Matt was dead. Dead, gone, and not alive. And it was Mello's fault. Matt was so trusting, and he'd thought the plan would work. He'd had faith in Mello, and Mello had returned it by having him shot.

Mello clutched his rosary, praying. Not for himself, but for Matt. Hoping that God would accept him into Heaven. Matt deserved Heaven. Really, really, really deserved it. Even if he wasn't even sure what religion he was.

He had taken all of Mello's punches, and temper tantrums. Matt had even been there when Mello had pulled out a gun, and nearly shot him. He hadn't fought back, because he knew Mello needed to work off steam. He knew that. There had only been 1 time he had ever been truly angry. That time when Mello had left. But he knew Mello loved him, and he loved Mello back. He knew that. He _knew_.

And he'd gone through with the plan, and shot at Takadas feet. And died.

DXXXXD

_10 years later._

Mello's boot crunched on the gravel at the cemetery. He alone knew where Matt was buried. Anyone else was either dead, or had forgotten.

Mello still knew.

Matt hadn't had a funeral. He been shoved into the back of some black car, put in a plain wooden coffin, and dropped into the hole, where he was covered with dirt. Mello had paid later for a headstone.

Mello stopped at the grave, and sat by it. He had come here every year for the past 10 years, and a lot of times he just came to speak to Matt when he was having trouble.

But not today. Today was the anniversary of his death. Exactly ten years to the day. How old was Mello, now? He didn't know. Oh, wait. He was 31, maybe. He knew that.

Yeah, he was still hot. Still wore leather. Still had chicks bombard him at clubs. But each time, he detangled himself from them, and depending on his mood, he either politely explained or rudely yelled that he wasn't interested in a relationship – he was in one already. He was. He was only waiting to die to be with Matt. He tried to be polite most of the time, knowing Matt wanted it that way. Matt was so polite.

Mello pulled a chocolate rose out of the small, red bag he had bought it in. It was still in perfect condition, and Mello laid it gently on the tombstone, which only said:

_Mail "Matt" Jeevas._

_Born: February 1__st__, 1990_

_Died: January 26__th__, 2010._

_A True Friend._

That was it. Mello didn't have enough money for something any nicer. No money from carvings, or engravings. It had been Matt's job to hack the bank for money, and Mello wasn't able to. Mello hadn't been smart enough, ever. He had begun to think that maybe Matt didn't deserve to be number 3. He should have been number one. He was way smarter then that albino twit.

Mello stood quietly, flipping his black hood up over his hair. He looked a moment at the chocolate rose, but he didn't want to eat any right now. Mello never wanted chocolate after visiting Matt's grave. Ever.

Mello turned, and slowly walked away, slowly pulling out his gun and putting it in his mouth. He wondered what would happen if he killed himself.

The only thing stopping him was that he didn't know if he would go to Heaven or Hell. Matt was obviously in Heaven. Mello had killed too many to go to anywhere but Hell. He pulled the trigger anyway. His last thought was that nothing could compare to missing Matt.


End file.
